Glasgow Smile
by Liquid Lilac
Summary: Businessman Arthur Kirkland was once a street rat, but he left that life behind him, along with the people he met. Ten years later, an old friend sought him out. Scotland and England AU. This is not Pixiv!Scotland. Written for a contest.


Kirkland was walking back home from a hard day's work at the office. Usually he would have used a much safer mode of transportation, but it was a beautiful winter night, and he wanted to take embrace nature. There was nothing very noticeable about him; he was just an average man. The only remarkable thing about him was the way he had crawled his way to the top of the food chain at Allied Bank. From sorting mail, Arthur had wormed his way up to the position of managing director.

He was just thinking about how he had been able to get up the chain so quickly; before he felt something hit him over the head. The streetlights dimmed and his assailant's sudden outburst grew muffled as Arthur's consciousness receded. The blond, desperate to stop the ringing in his head, could spare no attention to his attacker's words. It was a struggle to stay conscious and pay attention to his assailant, and the harder he tried the sooner he succumbed to darkness.

Arthur's last conscious sentiment was concern for his suit; it would be ruined if he lay on the ground any longer.

-x-

"Wakey wakey, dear brother~" A familiar voice cooed from above Arthur.

Arthur tried to open his eyes to see who was trying to get him to wake up, but his attempt ended in failure. His eyelids were heavy, and he didn't have enough strength to open them.

Once he felt the splash of cold water on his skin, his eyes shot open. It was then that Arthur let out a cry. The water made him shoot up and stiffened, though his eyes darted around to try and find the arse that gave him the unwanted shower.

"If you keep looking in that direction, you'll never find me." The voice taunted Arthur once again. Where had he heard that voice before? It was so familiar. Could it be that representative from the automotive company who'd spilled coffee on his shoes, only to have his proposal turned down; or was it that MD from Axis Banks who tried to get a partnership, only to be put on the month long waiting list? In any case, he would have to get to the bottom of it.

He would have gotten up if he could, but from the way he felt the binding on his body, he knew that he was stuck to the chair. His legs were attached to the chair's legs, and his arms were stuck to the arm rests. There was no way for him to escape this, even if he were a magician.

Arthur was panicking now. He didn't know what was going to happen to him. There was a high chance of him not surviving this, and the question of what would happen to the company if this was the end of the great Arthur Kirkland.

Arthur tried to compose himself, narrowing his emerald eyes into the darkness. "Who are you?" The Briton demanded. "What do you want from me!" He could only hear the echo of his own voice throughout the abandoned warehouse.

The chattering of his teeth and his soft breathing filled the dead space as the echo died out. Someone had to be there with him, wherever the bastard was. So far, he could only identify the voice as male, and that he—supposedly—knew the person who the voice belonged to. Those weren't helpful leads, but it was the best that he had.

He was pulled away from thoughts when he heard metal scrape the concrete floor of the warehouse. This arsehole was playing with him!

Arthur stopped cringing when he heard the other's voice yet again. "Did you forget about me already Artie?" It asked. It was closer to him now, but he couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from; the echo from the building made it so much harder for him, and the darkness wasn't helping. Even the single light bulb shining above him didn't help.

What did the unknown man mean though? Who did Arthur forget? There were too many people that he had met and left in the past, so it was hard for him to decipher.

Drawing a conclusion was much harder when there were footsteps around him, circling like a hawk.

"How could I have forgotten about someone if I have never met him?" Arthur let out hastily. It was a lie, but at this point he was too frazzled to figure anything out.

"Really?" Arthur could hear the amusement in the other's voice as the footsteps stopped completely. "We've never met?" There was a chuckle that came from his left side, so Arthur quickly turned his head in an attempt to catch a glimpse of the mystery man. Too bad it was too dark. "Not even when you were a chav running around the streets? The chav that almost died; remember that Johnny?"

Arthur's blood ran cold. How did the man know? Who was he!

The man turned further to the left. "What did you just call me?" He demanded. He couldn't believe his ears! No one called him Johnny anymore! They had stopped calling him that insufferable nickname after he went to school.

"Johnny the Bull~" The man started to sing, and the footsteps could be heard. "That was what they used to call you, wasn't it?" The voice came closer to Arthur, and he started to shift uncomfortably. "Before you became a coward."

"SHUT UP!" Arthur shouted, shutting his eyes tight. He tried to recompose himself, inhaling and exhaling deeply. "They called me no such thing." He replied once he was calmed again. No one called him that anymore. No one knew little Johnny Bull, the street rat, and he was going to keep things that way.

The tied man's stomach dropped when his surroundings became still yet again. He did his best to make his breathing as gentle as possible, but it was futile. He couldn't find out who—

"Looking for me?" The stranger's hot breath was on his ear, and it made Arthur leap out of his skin in fright. This was his chance though, so Arthur turned his head to look at the stranger in the eyes. The first thing he noticed was how pale the other was. If one considered Arthur to be pale, then this man would be transparent.

As much as Arthur hated to admit that he came from the streets, he had learned valuable lessons from there. For one, he learned that no matter how beaten up a guy was, his eyes never changed; they will always stayed the same. That was the second thing he noticed on the stranger, his green eyes. He had seen them somewhere before, he was sure of it.

"Did I stun you silent?" The man asked, rounding the chair to be in front of Arthur now.

The blond's eyes widened as he gaped at the giant that was before him. The man had to stand no shorter than 200 centimetres compared to his 175. He was a terrifying thing, all dressed up in formal wear. The dim light reflected off of his bright orange hair that was a thick, short forest atop his round oblong, weather beaten face. It was obvious that he was much older than Arthur—that, or he had aged fairly quickly due to various reasons.

The thing that caught Arthur's eyes the most was the fact that the man had two giant slits coming from the corner of his lips to his tragus, one on each side of his face to give him a permanent smile.

The Chelsea Smile.

The stranger furrowed his thick eyebrows and locked sights on Arthur. This was when Arthur knew that he should stop gawking at the man and he should start getting his answers.

"Of course not!" The blond said haughtily. "I want to know who you are, where am I, and why are we here." He was stern, and from the sound of his voice it didn't seem that there was no leeway for arguments.

That was what Arthur had thought. It shattered when he heard the other's laughter. It was the man's turn to narrow his eyes now. Every time Arthur heard the man laugh, he was sure that this man was a madman.

"What is it!" Arthur snapped. "Are you one of the men from Axis Banks?" It HAD to be those bastards. It was just like them to send for the captor of Allied Banks' MD. The vile snakes of Axis Banks; it appeared that they were willing to do anything to get to the top. First by trying to partner up with the top, and when they couldn't they would have to kidnap the MD of the top bank. Fools.

The other man laughed aloud, his grin grew wider. "One of the men from… Johnny boy, you are a muppet." He said between laughter.

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" Arthur bellowed, struggling with his bonds. There was something about the man's laugh that made Arthur want to give him a good beating, but he knew he couldn't. Not when he was tied to the chair anyways. It was just an impossible goal to reach when he was in such a predicament.

The other looked amused by what he heard. "Well then, maybe I should refresh your memory." He said, clearing his throat. He started to hum the first few bars of a familiar song before starting to sing.

_I left my baby lying there/_  
><em>Lying there, lying there_  
><em>I left my baby lying there_  
><em>To go and gather blaeberries_

Arthur's eyes widened. It was the song that his caretaker had sung to him when he was a small boy after he had taken a brutal beating. His captor must have seen the realisation, as he continued singing.

_I found the trail of the mountain mist/_  
><em>Mountain mist, mountain mist_  
><em>I found the trail of the mountain mist_  
><em>But never a trace of baby, O_

The mystery started to unveil before him as the song continued on. The treasure chest that he had locked his memories away was starting to open. As he listened to the gruff, but soothing, voice flow into his ears one person came to mind.

_Hovan, hovan gorry og O/_  
><em>Gorry og, O, gorry og O_  
><em>Hovan, hovan gorry og O_  
><em>I've lost my dearest baby, O_

The man held the final note for a while before turning back to Arthur, an amused smile on his face.

"Jock, you bastard." Arthur spat out. The man was COMPLETELY out of his mind for ambushing him.

"Glad you finally remember me, John." Jock grinned. "But I do not know who this 'Jock' is." He didn't give his name though, and Arthur didn't care about it. The maniacal grin on his face was creepy, and it added to the distraction of the large, unnatural smile that was carved to the man's face; that was the thing that Arthur was worried about the most.

"Fuck you Jock, and let me out of here!" He ordered, doing his best to wretch himself out of the chair. Every move he made was in vain. The other man watched him, amused at the attempts that Arthur made to escape.

"How cute; but you know I cannot let you go. Not until I repay you." The man grinned.

That sent a chill down Arthur's spine. He hesitantly looked up, and he immediately wished that he hadn't.

The sight of the other holding a switchblade in one hand and a credit card in the other made Arthur queasy. The colour drained from his face as he connected the dots. This wasn't going to be a happy ending for him, he was sure of it.

"W-what are you…."

"Planning to do? Well Artie, glad you asked." Jock seemed ecstatic as he was completing the sentence for Arthur. "Do you remember ten years ago, in the streets of Chelsea?" The man grinned. Arthur gulped, having a very clear idea of where the story was going. "Ten years ago today; when that little chav who called himself John Bull bit off more than he could chew. Remember that?"

The knife was flicked out, and Arthur could see how sharp the tip was. There were two occasions where he had seen a sharp blade with a fine tip: When a blade had just been purchased, or when someone had a mission to do and it had been sharpened.

He had a feeling that it was the latter in this case.

"Who was it that came to save his arse again?" Jock questioned, filing his nails with the knife. He was drawing the actions out to play with Arthur. Bastard!

The thought of having the blade used on him was painful, and Arthur didn't want to think about it. "I… I do not recall who came to save me." He frowned, not looking at the redhead. "It had been so long ago."

"Oh? Let me remind you~" Jock raised the knife to his own slits and mimicked the incisions. "Your brother came to your rescue, didn't he Johnny? He came and sent you off so your pretty little face wouldn't be marred." The man moved closer, gripping the blade tight. "And what did he get in return, Artie? What did you give him?"

"I… I don't know." Arthur turned away, disgusted that the man would bring the story up. He deliberately cut all of his old ties and had forgotten about his past. After that night, he kept his nose clean and got himself out of trouble.

Arthur redefined himself to be a better man. He didn't want it to come back and bite him!

"Of course you don't know. You didn't give him anything! You just went to your pretty school and got that pretty job of yours!" Jock snarled. The switchblade was turned on Arthur now. "And with that, you turned your back on your brothers and sisters; the ones who cared for you!" Jock had gone into frenzy, seeming more rabid by each word he spoke.

He must've caught himself, for he regained his composure and smiled. "Now, after all these years of NOTHING, I decided to come and give you an anniversary present," He grinned. "It took a decade to prepare it, but what do you think?" He spread his arms to show the warehouse. "She's a beauty, isn't she?"

Arthur looked around, but all he could see was darkness. It didn't matter though, since he felt the sharp tip of the blade meet the corner of his mouth.

"Now, let's get to your present." Jock grinned, pressing a little bit deeper. "Did you know that the so-called Chelsea Smile was from Scotland? Created in Glasgow in fact; my hometown." He boasted. Arthur didn't pay too much attention though. He was bracing for the puncture that the man was going to make in his skin.

Instead, he felt faint tracings on his cheeks. "But then you chavs down in England started to hear about it and used it… To ward off rival gangs. A pity you do not know how to do it properly. It barely hurts." He laughed manically once again, taking the switchblade off of his face.

It was sealed, the man was insane. It didn't stop Arthur from treating him like he always did back in his street days.

"Yeah, why don't you teach them then?" He spat in the other's face. Arthur didn't remember that the other had a knife until the man lifted the blade and wiped his face from saliva. Thank goodness it wasn't anywhere near his face, or else there was going to be a bloody mess.

Not that there wasn't going to be one soon. He just wanted to prolong it—or better yet, he hoped his premonition was incorrect.

The other stood there, grinning from ear to ear. "Why Artie, that's what I was planning to do." He twirled the blade in one hand before holding it towards Arthur. "My gift is to teach you how to execute the Glasgow Smile—ah, excuse me. The Chelsea Smile."

Arthur stiffened. Oh dear Lord. His worries were real. He stared at the man in disbelief, before managing to stutter "That… What would not be necessary." He was squirming away from the knife, but he felt the other's strong arms wrapped around his body. This was slowly turning into a horror movie, and he knew that his time was coming to an end soon.

"Nonsense! You should be grateful that you are getting a demonstration." The man grinned. "You have been spared of the improper way, so this is your prize~"

The Briton opened his mouth to say something, but the long edge of a thin and rectangular piece of plastic was promptly shoved into his mouth. It stretched his mouth out nicely, and kept it open in an uncomfortable position.

"Don't worry. You see, the bunch of chavs that tried to cut you… They forgot that little piece of detail." The man explained. "You need to stick a card in there to keep the mouth open; if it isn't open, then where would you cut~?"

The knife was up again, and this time it was placed at the corner of Arthur's mouth. Jock started to move the blade up, letting it meet flesh.

Before Arthur knew it, he was in agonising pain with the pressure that was added to the knife. He tried to scream, but that didn't help relieve the pain. If anything, in increased the pain as he felt his cheek tear even more.

Eventually, his left cheek lost the pressure of the blade and it was his right cheek's turn for the abuse. He let out a louder shriek, and it resulted in his cheeks splitting even more.

All throughout, the man that was the cause of his pain was smiling.

Arthur couldn't spit the card out, since it was the only thing that was helping him ease the pain. He didn't think that as he bit down on the card, it helped the splitting of his cheeks. It didn't matter to him though, since he felt the warm crimson flow down his jawline and drip on his body to make his clothing warm as it clung to his skin.

Before he knew it, Arthur was released from his bindings and he head the air knocked out of him as he toppled over. It was then that he had spat out the plastic card.

"Now, after you make the small incisions, I suggest you do something like this~" He felt Jock's foot meeting his stomach, and he let out another cry of pain. His cheeks ripped open even more, and he couldn't help but to let out another cry of pain.

It had turned into a vicious circle of screaming and ripping of flesh.

When the redhead knew that Arthur couldn't possibly make larger tears himself, he leaned over and started to carve the spit cheeks deeper.

That was all Arthur could remember before he blacked out. He could hear the chuckling of the other and the blood that flowed form his mouth.

There was a light.

Was he supposed to follow it? Maybe it was Heaven.

He hoped that it was. He wanted relief from the pain.

-x-

McKay had a heart. He wouldn't let the idiot die in the warehouse. They were blood brothers after all.

As soon as Artair was done cutting Arthur's mouth open, he ran to the closest payphone to call the authorities. The man knew that they would arrive in a matter of minutes, since many crime lords used this area to deal with business.

Pigs were practically crawling all over the place; which was exactly why he needed to ditch the scene of the crime as soon as possible after the call.

It was the least he could do for Arthur.

The man with the permanent grin stalked off into the night. He was covered in his little brother's blood. The crimson clung on to his body, and he could feel that the drops that managed to splatter on his face had crusted over.

Well, at least they matched now.


End file.
